


Elevator

by liars_dance



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 08:31:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liars_dance/pseuds/liars_dance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This formed in my mind after watching an interview with both Russell Crowe and Paul Bettany on the Jonathan Ross show in November 2003. It was written the following year.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Elevator

**Author's Note:**

> This formed in my mind after watching an interview with both Russell Crowe and Paul Bettany on the Jonathan Ross show in November 2003. It was written the following year.

The two men scramble out of the back of the London taxi. They look very different - one tall, blond and fresh-faced, dressed in a well cut dark suit, the other shorter, darker and bearded, wearing jeans, t-shirt and a black leather jacket. The blond man, Paul, hands the driver a twenty pound note.

"Thanks... And keep the change," he murmurs with a half apologetic smile. 

"Cheers, mate," the driver replies with a knowing grin. "And don't worry, them Ozzies are all the same - like the sound of their own voice too much - that's their problem.." 

Paul half laughs. "Yes - something like that," he replies, and turns to follow Russell up the steps to the doors of their hotel. Russell goes straight through the automatic doors and turns to the left, ignoring the duty desk clerk.

"Anything I can get you, Mr Bettany?" the young man asks and once again Paul smiles apologetically. 

"No... no, thank you. We'll just get the lift," he replies, "Goodnight." He heads for he lift bay and finds Russell pressing every button he can find.

"It's an elevator, not a lift," Russell growls, his tone and expression more of an aggravating fourteen year old than an internationally applauded actor. Paul tries not to smile at the contradiction.

"Yes, Russell," he replies, "in America and in Australia and god knows where else, it may indeed be an elevator. But we're in Britain - and in Britain, this is a lift."

Russell says nothing and continues to press the 'up' button repeatedly, while Paul looks on in amused exasperation. He leans in close. "You know, pressing it like that won't make it come any faster," he murmurs, trying not to laugh and then straightens as Russell swings round to face him. "The system knows you want it," Paul continues, "and unlike some human beings, it only needs telling once."

Before Russell can respond, the lift doors open and a young couple, dressed to party into the night, step out. The woman stares at Russell as he steps into the lift, only realising who she is looking at when she turns to see the doors close.

Paul sighs as the lift begins to slowly rise and waits for he storm.

"Okay, wise ass," Russell says, his voice muffled by the carpeted walls of the lift. "What was all that about?"

"All what?" Paul replies with an innocent smile.

"Don't give me that, Paul," Russell growls softly. "This evening - the show - all that double meaning schoolboy stuff about you and me on set..."

Paul snorts with laughter at Russell's expression, though his heart begins to beat a little faster. "Oh, come on, Russell - lighten up for fuck's sake. It was just a bit of fun - and the audience loved it. The tabloids are right - you really are a miserable pain in the arse.."

"Jonathan's the last person you should encourage with that kind of line..."

"What kind of line? For god's sake - it was a joke... and it was forgotten by the time you got on there and started talking about Danielle and children..." Paul sighs, trying to no avail to still his increasing heart rate. "Look," he continues, "we're two happily married men, we've been in a couple of films together, we've become friends, there's nothing wrong with that."

"But in the Green Room, you touched me, Paul," Russell says, his voice a soft growl, "it made us look like a couple of poofs - all the viewers saw that..."

Paul swallows hard, his heart racing. He curls his fingers into fists to stop them doing something else. "A couple of poofs? Are you kidding me? I put my hand your shoulder and squeezed your thigh as I recall. I don't think that automatically means we're fucking."

Russell's eyes darken as he stares for a moment at Paul and then looks at his feet. "Yes... well - it's just that Jonathan's the last person you ought to feed that kind of crap to..."

Something snaps inside Paul's brain. He leans over and presses the stop button. "Crap? Oh... so this thing between us is all crap, is it?"

"What?" Russell looks up as the lift stops with a cushioned jolt. "Quit fucking about, Paul... Why have you stopped the elevator?"

"It's a lift," Paul replies evenly. "And I've stopped the lift because if we get to our floor you'll just go to your room and I'll go to mine. And we'll never resolve this thing."

"What thing?" Russell glares at Paul, his eyes dark. "There's nothing to resolve..."

"Is that right?" Paul moves closer. "So, what's this?" he asks softly cupping Russell's more than half hard cock through his jeans. "This feels like something that needs resolving..." 

Russell gasps, his body stiffening against the carpeted wall of the elevator. 

"And what's this?" Paul asks, taking Russell's hand and pressing it against his own erection, "your imaginary friend?" Paul leans in closer, pushing against Russell's fingers and sliding his free hand under the Australian's leather Jacket. "So..." he murmurs, the words muffled by Russell's hair, "it's all crap is it? I've just been imagining the electricity sparking between us each time we meet; just been dreaming that every time you look at me you look like you want to eat me; just been imagining all that, have I?" Russell moans and thrusts into Paul's hand. _At last..._ Paul thinks and groans softly in return.

"I want you, Russell. And you want me. And I want you to admit it - I want you to _say_ it. So say it, please." 

"Paul... oh fuck, Paul," Russell groans, his fingers squeezing gently, and Paul moans, his lips finding Russell's jaw.

"Fuck, indeed, my friend," Paul murmurs, quickly unfastening Russell's jeans and sighing when his fingers make long anticipated contact with warm hard flesh. "God, you feel hot," he whispers huskily, slowly dropping to his knees and pressing his lips to Russell's cock.

Russell grasps Paul's shoulders. "Jesus, Paul.. You can't - not here..." Paul looks up into eyes cloudy with desire and bright with apprehension.

"Yes, I can," he whispers. "It's Doctor's orders... I need it and so do you - _we_ need this, Russell - so say it.."

The response is immediate. "Yes... please... yes... oh fuck, Paul, please..." The breathless words seem to flow over and through Paul as he sucks the head of Russell's cock into his mouth, licking and sucking and then with a moan, taking the hard flesh as far down his throat as he can. The muffled howl of pleasure that accompanies this move makes him want to howl too, but instead he closes his eyes and smiles inside as he holds the base of Russell's cock in his fingers as he licks his way back up its length. 

Paul sighs as he feels Russell's fingers digging hard into his shoulders and then a shaking hand cradling the back of his head. _That's it... that's it,_ he thinks as he strokes a thumb over Russell's tightening balls and feels the shudder that follows. Ignoring the increasing pressure inside his own pants Paul starts to hum as he sucks hard now, rubbing his tongue underneath the head. _Oh, yes, you're so close now..._ Above him Russell gasps his name, then stills for a moment, trembling. Paul manages to take in a breath before Russell empties himself down his throat with a sound that almost makes Paul come in his pants right then and there.

\--[*]-- 

Russell stands on shaking legs, breathing heavily. His eyes are shut tight and his hands move restlessly in Paul's soft blond hair. His inability to form one coherent word he puts down to Paul having accidentally sucked his brain out through his cock. _But I can still think,_ he thinks, _so I must still have a brain..._

The power of speech returns to him in a rush. "There are things I need to say," he whispers, still panting softly.

"Yes?" Paul replies, and Russell moans again as he feels Paul's fingers tucking him back into his jeans and pulling up the zipper.

"Yes... so get up here where I can see you," Russell replies, finally opening his eyes to see Paul slowly standing up. He places trembling hands on Paul's shoulders. "You're right. I want you," he whispers. "I want to taste you like you've just tasted me... I want more than that - come to my room? I..." He stops and looks at Paul, whose mouth is curled into a smile.

"Did I just say something funny?" 

"No," Paul breathes, curling an arm briefly round Russell's neck and pressing the floor number on the lift panel. "For the first time tonight, my friend, you're actually talking sense." He laughs as the lift jolts into motion and steps back to put space between them. "Can't help but think our days on chat shows together are over though..."

\--[END]-- 


End file.
